Love's Rescue (6 page)

Elizabeth ought to be glad to leave the
Windsprite
, even for an inferior vessel, for it removed her from temptation, but she longed to stay. She wanted to converse with Rourke, to ask dozens of questions and plead her remorse, but her aunt watched every move. His solicitous care only made it worse. Despite her clinging to the impossible hope that time would change her feelings toward him, Rourke had lived up to every expectation she had woven in her daydreams over the years. If not for Aunt Virginia’s firm grasp, she would have walked away from her vow and her duty.

Charlie must come first. She owed him the remainder of her days. With Mother’s passing, the mantle fell firmly upon her shoulders.

By the time Tom Worthington helped her aboard the
Dinah Hale
, an aching emptiness had set in. Oh, people surrounded her. Anabelle and Aunt Virginia hovered within reach. Mr. Worthington followed a few steps behind. This ship’s crew bustled fore and aft in preparation for departure. Orders rang out, followed by confirmation. Still, she felt so alone. Would this feeling saturate the rest of her life?

“Well, this is certainly no prize.” Aunt Virginia looked around the new ship’s accommodations. “I certainly hope the cabin is in better condition than this deck. What a derelict. My nephew would never allow such a vessel in his fleet.” Within minutes, she’d managed to denounce every aspect of the vessel.

Elizabeth rather enjoyed telling her aunt that they would not enjoy the luxuries of a cabin. A vessel this small only afforded private quarters for the master, and on such a short voyage he would not relinquish his cabin to nonpaying passengers. “With the favorable winds, we should reach home before nightfall.”

“Not my home,” Aunt Virginia said. “If we aren’t to have a cabin, where do we go?”

“Let’s sit here, in the shade afforded by the sail.” Elizabeth led her to the main hatch cover.

“You want me to sit on that?” Aunt drew back. “It’s filthy. The splinters will tear holes in my gown.”

Elizabeth did not point out that Aunt Virginia’s dress would need extensive laundering and repair after its dousing in the sea. “I’ll fetch a shawl to sit upon.”

Tom Worthington removed his jacket. “Allow me.” With a flourish, he settled it on the hatch cover.

Aunt Virginia gaped at the patched, sweat-stained garment. “That?”

“Thank you, Mr. Worthington,” Elizabeth interjected. “It’s very kind of you to offer your jacket, but we can make do.”

“Indeed,” Aunt said. “Even my niece’s old shawl is better than that rag.”

“If that’s your trunk, I’m afraid the shawl is wet.” Tom pointed to three trunks piled near the rail.

Elizabeth spotted a pool of water growing around the base of her trunk. “Nevertheless, we cannot accept your gesture, Mr. Worthington.”

“Yes, we can.” Aunt dropped onto the jacket.

He grinned and nodded toward the trunks. “Do you want anything from these before I stow them in the captain’s quarters?”

Elizabeth shook her head. Though surprised the captain had agreed to house their trunks in his cabin, she appreciated the gesture. “Everything is wet anyway.”

“I’m afraid you’re correct.”

His gentlemanly language brought a smile to her lips. The crew of the
Dinah Hale
was a rough lot. Elizabeth hadn’t heard so many foul words since leaving the Charleston wharf. It was thoughtful of Rourke to send Mr. Worthington with Aunt and her.

The captain climbed aboard and shouted the order to raise anchor and set sail.

As the crew rushed to obey, Tom leaned close to Elizabeth. “I’d lock your trunk if I were you.” He lowered his voice. “Some aboard might stoop to stealing.”

“From the captain’s cabin?” Most masters demanded obedience, and this one looked no different. “Surely no one would dare.”

“Best to be certain,” Tom said as the
Dinah Hale
inched away from the wreck site. “Do you have the key?”

Elizabeth reached into her watch pocket and discovered the brooch she’d found in the mate’s desk on the
Victory
. “Oh dear, I forgot.”

“Forgot your key?”

“No, no. That’s not it. Something else I meant to do.” Already the
Windsprite
was a sizable distance away. Even if she asked the master to turn around, he would not do so for a bauble. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of it later.” She’d return it to the mate when the
Victory
’s crew arrived in Key West.

“Take care of what?” Aunt Virginia called out.

“Nothing of note.” She tucked the brooch back in her pocket and pulled the key from around her neck. “I suppose I should fetch my aunt’s keys also.”

“No, miss. Her trunks are already locked.”

“They are?”

How could that be? Her aunt had insisted her trunks were latched but unlocked when the ship hit the reef. She’d wept when Elizabeth couldn’t unlatch the smaller one to get her pearls. Had Aunt Virginia forgotten that she’d locked her trunks, or had someone gotten hold of her keys during the rescue?

But who?

Elizabeth sucked in her breath. Only one man had gotten near enough to Aunt Virginia to snatch the key—Rourke.

R
ourke barely had time to offer a prayer for Elizabeth’s safety when the master of the doomed schooner stomped across the deck with another demand. Unlike Poppinclerk, Captain Cross’s boots were stained and scuffed. His coat was clean but threadbare. His cocked hat sagged atop white hair and a weather-beaten face whose lines indicated he never smiled.

He drew up before Rourke. “I’m sending my men over to patch the hull and pump the bilges. Once we get her afloat, you can haul her off the reef.”

Hadn’t the man heard John’s report? “You can’t patch that large a hole. My diver said it’s breached from stem to amidships.”

The master’s gaze narrowed. “You expect me to take the word of a darkie?”

So that was what this came down to. Rourke glanced at John, who had pasted on the blank expression that effectively concealed his feelings before those who refused to see him as a man. John, who had experienced the bitter end of slavery under a cruel owner, showed greater restraint than Rourke would have.

Rourke squared his jaw. “I expect you to take the word of my chief mate. I trust this man with my life.”

“That’s your mistake,” Cross snarled. “Not mine. Keep in mind, Captain, that the
Victory
is my ship, not yours. My word is law.”

Rourke smothered his frustration. Cross was right. “Do what you need to do, Captain.” He would have to wait a little longer to see Elizabeth.

The master leaned back on his heels, triumph curling his lips. “I will require the use of your boat, Captain.”

“Of course.”

The master nodded curtly and headed for his crew, who ranged along the rail waiting for orders. This attempt served no purpose but delay. By the time Rourke finished the salvage and returned to Key West, Elizabeth’s family would have had ample time to turn her against him.

He chased down the master. “Let my men assist. Together we can patch the hull twice as fast.”

The master waved his hand as if swatting a fly. “Extra men would only get in the way. We know the old girl better than you. You stay here and prepare your chains and winches. Mr. Buetsch, come with me.” He glanced at Poppinclerk, who yawned like a cat. “You stay here.”

Rourke chafed at the arrangements, even though they made sense. Poppinclerk could lend no assistance worth having, but Rourke didn’t relish having the man underfoot. He had little choice, though.

He watched Cross muster his men and board the ship’s boat. The master’s insistence on floating a bilged ship meant the cargo must be infinitely more valuable than he was letting on. A little poor-grade muslin and ruined rice would not induce a
man to take such desperate measures. Rourke’s spine tingled in warning. He glanced at John, whose nod indicated he’d come to the same conclusion.

Something valuable was on that vessel.

The idea that someone might have tampered with their trunks bothered Elizabeth. Who and why? It made no sense. Other than Aunt Virginia’s pearls, they carried nothing of value. More than once she almost blurted out what Tom had shared, but Aunt would blame Rourke. He would never steal. Never. If he locked Aunt’s trunks, he’d done so at her bidding. She must have given Rourke the key when he rescued her. It was the only explanation.

While considering the possibilities, Elizabeth watched Tom whittle what appeared to be a child’s whistle. He stood at the starboard rail with the uninhabited islands, called keys, passing by in the distance. Other than a large gap midway, the keys followed one upon another like a string of pearls.

Perhaps she ought to ask Aunt to check her trunk for the pearls, but that would entail getting permission to enter the captain’s cabin. Moreover, Aunt had drifted off to sleep and was snoring softly. Anabelle had moved to the stern soon after departure, where she gazed at the ship’s wake and the disaster they’d left behind.

After ensuring her aunt was comfortable, Elizabeth joined Tom. Perhaps he could calm her fears over the matter of the trunks.

“Everything all right, Miss Benjamin?”

This was her chance to ask the question. “You said my aunt’s trunks were already locked. Do you know who locked them?”

“No,” he said slowly. “Should I? Is there a problem?”

Embarrassed, she focused on his whittling. “Are you making that for a nephew?”

He cast the wood shavings into the sea and pocketed both knife and whistle. “Little brother.”

“Do you miss him?”

Tom shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“You could go back.”

“Not yet. Need to earn enough for passage.”

That embarrassed her even more. She seldom thought about finances. Every shop in Key West had extended her credit. Even in Charleston, Aunt Virginia spared no expense. Elizabeth must appear wealthy to Tom, who wore patched trousers.

“This wreck ought to help,” she offered.

“I’m not helping with the salvage. I won’t earn a share.”

“That doesn’t matter. Captain O’Malley rewards each man equally, regardless of his task.”

“He does?” Tom brightened. “I’ve only been on the
Windsprite
a month. How do you know the captain?”

“I knew him when I was much younger, before I went to Charleston.”

“I see.” He began whittling again.

Elizabeth wouldn’t let this opportunity to learn about Rourke slip away, so she turned the conversation to a more personal topic. “Did you leave a sweetheart back home?”

Tom laughed. “I was only sixteen then. Signed on to a Yankee clipper and traveled up and down the seaboard a couple years before ending up here. Haven’t been ashore more than a day or two between ships. That’s not much time to court a lady.”

“I suppose not. Does Captain O’Malley ever talk about a sweetheart?” Her cheeks instantly heated, so she looked forward.

Tom didn’t seem to notice. “He doesn’t much talk about himself.”

“That sounds like him.”

“That it does. Always thinking of others first.”

A lump caught in her throat. Wasn’t that the way Rourke had always been? In all those years of teasing, he’d never spoken about difficulties or his family on Harbour Island. He’d let her rattle on about every silly thing. She knew he had parents and seven younger siblings, but he’d always directed the conversation to her dream of sailing the high seas. Though he pointed out the less savory aspects of the occupation, he hadn’t attempted to dissuade her. If anything, he encouraged her silly ideas. But he’d still treated her like a child until the day of the storm, when he looked into her eyes as if for the first time.

“Are you all right, miss?”

“Yes. Oh yes.” She again looked forward and spotted a white tower gleaming in the distance. “Is that the lighthouse?”

“Key West light. Would you like to see?” He handed her a spyglass.

“Is it in a different location?” The moment she asked, she realized Tom wouldn’t know that the hurricane had washed the old lighthouse away, along with everyone inside. “Forgive me. That was a silly question.” She lifted the brass instrument warmed by the sun and gazed at her future. “Home.”

Visions of the place she once knew mixed with memories of the roofless houses and streets filled with debris. The wind had stripped the leaves from the mangroves and mahogany trees. Coconuts had flown like cannonballs. Mud and seaweed caked everything. She would never forget the stench.

“What is it like now?”

“Pardon, miss?”

“The town. Do many people live there? Has the custom house been rebuilt? Are the wharves busy? Are there any flowers?”

“Aye, miss. All of that.”

Elizabeth returned the glass and closed her eyes, letting the breeze toss her salt-stiffened locks. The sun felt the same. The islands looked green again. The sea smelled as it always had, but time had passed. A town had been rebuilt. Would her beloved Key West be a stranger to her now? Surely she would recognize some things. Some buildings, like the Marine Hospital, had only needed repair. Her home had been devastated, though. They had slept on the floor of the dining room in the days after the storm. Mother spent every day at the hospital. Father assisted the other men with keeping order and returning valuables to their rightful owners. At Father’s insistence, she set sail for Charleston as planned.

She glanced toward the wheel, where an unfamiliar captain patrolled the quarterdeck. Even the wreckers were new. Except Rourke.

“At least he’s still there,” she breathed.

“Who?” Tom asked.

She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. “No one in particular. I’m simply looking forward to seeing my family again.”

“It won’t be long now.”

The lighthouse loomed ever closer. On the fresh northerly wind, the
Dinah Hale
was making excellent time. They might enter the harbor before sunset. Rourke, on the other hand, wouldn’t arrive for days or even weeks, depending on the extent of the salvage.

No one would greet them at the pier. Father didn’t know she was coming. No one in Key West knew of her arrival. Yet. The minute they landed, word would race through town. Father, Char
lie, her friend Caroline. Everyone would hear of the wreck, that she had been on the
Victory
, and that Rourke was salvaging it.

Did someone wait on the docks for him? Even if Rourke had no particular sweetheart, the girls had always flocked to him. He might even have someone back home in the Bahamas. Though the thought pained her, what did it matter? The moment she set foot in Key West, she would give her life to caring for her brother.

The crew sprang to life as the ship rounded Key West. Tom left, and her regrets faded as the island she loved came into view. The seas calmed, and Aunt Virginia joined her at the rail.

“This is it?” her aunt sniffed.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” They glided past the huge brick walls of the fort rising from the sea. A narrow strip of earth connected the fortress to the island. Piles of brick stood beside temporary barracks for the workers. Men, many of them servants hired out by their masters, swarmed over the worksite in the late afternoon sun.

To the west of the fort lay the most beautiful sight of all. Building after building, silvered gray by the weather, lined the streets. Palm trees poked up between them, as did wild tamarind, gumbo-limbo, and the beautiful Geiger tree with its orange blooms. Railings lined verandas. People dotted the wharves.

Elizabeth ought to tell her aunt that she had neglected to inform her father of their pending arrival, but six hundred miles had not made that omission easier to admit. “I doubt Father will be there.”

“Why not?”

She sought and found a ready excuse. “He could not have heard of the wreck nor have known that we would arrive on the
Dinah Hale
.”

“Nonsense. If Captain Littlejohn knew to bring three ships to our aid, your father will know of our dire circumstances. He is, after all, greatly involved in the trade.”

Father would doubtless represent his brother-in-law in admiralty court, but he could not have known of the wreck.

“Captain Littlejohn must have been patrolling the reef,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Word could not have gotten all the way to Key West so quickly.”

“Trust me. Your father will greet us. If nothing else, Charles Benjamin possesses prescience.”

Elizabeth must have misunderstood. Aunt Virginia took great delight in pointing out Father’s flaws. In her mind, Mother had married beneath herself in settling for an attorney when she could have married a plantation owner or statesman. A compliment, even a backhanded one, from Aunt Virginia was rare.

“Despite his grief,” her aunt continued, “he will welcome us. I expect he will be overjoyed to have a woman manage the household again.”

Aunt patted her hand, and the sight of their black sleeves yanked Elizabeth away from the fantasy of childhood. Mother was gone. Elizabeth would step into a home much different from the one she had left, and her mother would not be there to guide her.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Courage, dear,” Aunt Virginia said. “I will instruct you and get the servants”—she glanced at Anabelle—“under control.”

Thoughts of Rourke were whisked away on the same wind that carried the ship into the harbor. Instead of joy, this homecoming would bring sorrow. She could no longer avoid the memories of the past. In short order, she must face a father who did not know she was coming and take on the burden of caring for an invalid brother. She would have few precious minutes between disembarking and hiring a porter to determine a course of action.